


Take Your Time to Breathe

by stellahibernis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky’s Wakandan goat farm, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Post-Black Panther (2018), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Recovery, Two years of stolen moments, rekindling a relationship, sometimes on skype
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 05:52:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: Bucky asks for Steve to return to Wakanda after the triggers are cleared from his head. He doesn’t want to leave, and Steve can't stay for good, which means they have to make things between them work with the constraints. And they do, taking the moments they have together and making the best out of it, shaping their relationship to fit the future they’ve found themselves in and the men they are now.





	Take Your Time to Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I had to write an in-between story.

Steve’s return to Wakanda takes Bucky by surprise even though he knew to expect it. He took his time to settle down after being woken up from the ice and having the triggers dealt with, and only then he’d asked Shuri to contact Steve, to ask if he’d come back to see him. He’d contemplated on doing it himself, but it had felt wrong for the first contact between them after everything to be anything other than face to face. Shuri had readily agreed to helped him, although Bucky is sure she considers it one of his many idiosyncrasies. Unsurprisingly Steve had immediately agreed. Shuri reported he’d been regretful it would take a few days to wrap things up wherever he was, because he’d wanted to set out immediately, but Bucky was glad of the delay, of being able to mentally prepare to the idea of Steve’s approaching arrival.

He’d been glad to find out Steve hadn’t stayed in Wakanda while he was in ice, that he had found something to do instead. Before he’d gone into stasis Bucky had told Steve he should, but he hadn’t been overly confident Steve would take his advice beyond going to free his friends. It had been clear from day one that it was something Steve needed to do, would never consider staying in safety while they were held captive. Bucky had feared Steve would have just come back after it, would have moped around the palace for however long the process would take. Apparently Steve’s new friends had helped with that; they had reminded Steve they were a team and that the world could still use their skills, even when the governments wanted them restrained and diluted, mixed with the politics, going where powerful decided they should rather than where they were needed most.

Bucky might have been happier if Steve had found something quiet and safe to do, but then again that had never really been in the cards for Steve, so he’s content enough to settle with productivity.

On the decided day Steve appears as if rising from the ground itself on top of the hill which Bucky uses as a pasture for his little goat herd. It’s evening already, the sun is low and Bucky’s had hours to get nervous, hours that his regular chores didn’t want to fill. His farm is technically within a walking distance from the palace, but far enough that whenever people come to see him they tend to drive, and he had expected someone to offer Steve a ride as well. He’s been listening all day to hear a hover car approaching. They probably did make an offer, but maybe it’s not so surprising for Steve to have declined. If he’s even close to as nervous as Bucky, taking the time and light exercise probably felt like a good way to calm down a bit. It certainly looks like it’s worked, because the silhouette of Steve reveals a relaxed set of shoulders and gait as he crests the hill, details obscured with the sun behind him even as Bucky’s eyes are drawn to him the moment he comes visible.

As Steve comes closer Bucky takes in every aspect of him; the boots covered in dust from the walk, the worn jeans that hug his thighs, the just a bit too tight white T-shirt, the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and the aviators Steve takes off when he’s a few paces away from Bucky. His hair is longer, and the biggest surprise of all is the beard that’s probably meant to serve as a disguise.

It’s then that Bucky realizes he somehow expected Steve to appear in front of him just as he was when Bucky last saw him, still showing bruises from the fight in Siberia, frozen in time the way Bucky had been. Steve’s appearance finally makes it real that time moved forward while Bucky was under; that Steve moved along with it, and he’s now just a slightly different man from the one Bucky remembers. He looks more tired, worn down, but the determined core of him is still intact.

It’s stupidly awkward for a moment when Steve pauses in front of him, both of them hesitating on what to do, if they should touch, what to even say to each other. It dissolves into hilarity with both of them cracking up at the same time, and relief floods into Bucky, because he doesn’t remember when he last time laughed easily like this, but now with Steve he can.

“It’s good to see you, Buck,” Steve says, his eyes still dancing with mirth, looking suddenly much younger.

“I’m glad you came.” It comes out more serious, more sincere than Bucky really wanted, his heart suddenly bare, vulnerable. Steve of course sees it, and true to form responds to it with gentle, just as serious tones.

“Of course I did.” As if it really is that simple.

Bucky takes Steve around his small farm, never really looking away from him, trying to get an idea of what Steve thinks about it all. It must be completely different from what he expected, because it had been so for Bucky as well. He had never expected to live on a farm, has only ever stayed in cities before this. And for a time in the middle of Siberia, but that doesn’t count since it wasn’t his choice. He’s been surprised to find the life here suits him, it’s simple and yet new in a way that’s calmly stimulating, probably the reason why it was suggested to him. His life here started with basics, and he got introduced to the specifics of Wakandan way of life as time passed. He looks at Steve petting the rather too friendly goats, and wonders if he understands why the combination of outwardly rustic life spiced with top of the line technological innovations to help with daily tasks suits Bucky so well. He probably will in time, at least.

Bucky must be as unexpected sight as Steve was to him, since he’s dressed in a Wakandan outfit rather than the jeans and T-shirts he often wears while working. It’s funny but somehow the lack of an arm doesn’t feel so pronounced like this, somehow it fits better with all the new things. Bucky manages well without, and he gets some help from the kids in the neighborhood with tasks that require two hands. Steve so far seems to have taken it all in easily enough, and maybe he’s feeling the same way Bucky is; that whatever the appearance, however much they’ve changed over the years, deep down they are still themselves, and it’s good to be together again.

They come to the edge of the lake, and when Steve looks across it he seems to gain some calm, some of the weariness leaves him as he stands there, and Bucky finally reaches out to touch him, slipping his hand in Steve’s.

It’s new, a gesture that takes a moment to settle in between their bodies. Not that they haven’t touched in general, they just never held hands because in private there was so much else they could do, and it wouldn’t have gone well in public before Bucky fell. Now that they’re here and have a moment for themselves, Bucky wants to try and see what it means to be with Steve now, how they’ll shape their relationship to fit the new freedom and lack of fear. Steve’s fingers curl around his, his hold steady and eyes bright when he turns to look at Bucky. It’s a perfect moment, and while Bucky is conscious not all of them will be, that there’ll be times when touching is too much, it’s enough for now to have just this.

They eat by the side of the hut where the last of evening sun falls, Steve helping only when Bucky directs. He’s patient with it, seemingly content to wait and just watch even though some things would probably go faster if he did them instead. Clearly Steve remembers the importance of being able and allowed to do things even when someone objectively more capable is present. While eating they talk of what has happened during the time they spent apart, and sit side by side, knees knocking together.

Steve doesn’t apologize for not being there when Bucky woke up, and Bucky doesn’t apologize for not asking Steve to come sooner, despite how their instincts might urge them to. They both know there is nothing to apologize for.

As it gets darker and colder they douse the fire in the pit and go inside the hut. Bucky waves the lights on and puts the leftovers away, looking from the corner of his eye at Steve taking the space in. It’s funny how Steve being here makes Bucky look at his living space with new eyes, because Steve is an outsider in Wakanda more than Bucky is these days, and he sees things differently.

The inside of the hut is a mix of things a westerner would expect to find in such a residence, and modern Wakandan technology. It’s all very utilitarian, practical with no excess, and Bucky thinks that maybe it’s familiar in a way, because back before the war when they lived together all they could afford were necessities.

The only thing that approaches luxury is his bed; situated on a slightly raised pallet, wider than needed for just one person, the mattress made of some intelligent material that supports him perfectly, and it’s piled with blankets and pillows. Steve pauses when his eyes fall on it, considering, and Bucky knows he can read the wish it conveys, that it’s there for a reason. It means Bucky doesn’t want to be alone any more, that he wants something back from their past.

Steve smiles when he looks up to Bucky again, dissolving the hesitancy with an affirmation that the wish is welcome, but Bucky doesn’t go to him, he’s not yet ready for more than the acknowledgment. They prepare for bed in silence, and slip in between the sheets, facing each other, not touching but close enough that they can feel each other’s body heat.

Bucky waves at the lamp to put it out, and Steve whispers, “Good night, Buck.”

It already is, whatever else it will bring to Bucky.

***

There are no nightmares, but it’s not exactly a peaceful night for Bucky, and not for Steve either, if the amount of shifting is anything to go by. He wakes up a few times, just the surprise of knocking his knee against Steve or some other blatant reminder of another presence in the bed enough to rouse him. It’s not that it’s a bad thing, sleeping together, it’s just something neither of them is currently used to. Bucky can’t help but feel a definite glow of happiness that it’s the same for Steve as it’s for him, even when it’s probably selfish to be happy that Steve hasn’t had anyone close enough to regularly sleep with.

He gives up the ghost of sleep early in the morning when the sun is only just lightening the horizon. Despite the somewhat restless night he feels good, relaxed and full of energy, and no aches or pains anywhere. Steve wakes up a bit later, Bucky sees him blink his eyes open even in the dim light of the morning, and he smiles unbidden in response to the happiness in Steve’s eyes.

For once it’s actually almost too warm for Bucky. He tends to get cold easily these days, and the temperature dips during the night even when the days are perfectly comfortable. The pile of blankets helps, but apparently he can make do with less while he has his own space heater in Steve. If he’s too warm, it’s a good bet Steve is too.

“Let’s go for a swim,” Bucky says, and gets out of the bed, finds towels for the both of them, and shucks off the boxers he slept in before beckoning to Steve, who’s still sitting in the middle of the bed. At Steve’s questioning glance toward his nakedness Bucky shrugs. “There isn’t going to be anyone around. Or if there is, no one cares.”

Steve appears to think about it, but then just shrugs it away, and he too strips before following Bucky out of the door. Outside of the slightly cramped space of the hut Steve stretches, arms reaching high up toward the sky, rising up to his toes, every muscle of his torso defined. His skin is flawless, which means he hasn’t had any serious injuries recently, and the serum has had time to wipe everything away. Bucky’s mouth goes dry at the sight, even though he’d like to tell himself it’s just regular thirst. There is a part of Bucky that wants to feel self-conscious of the scars around his left shoulder, healing faster now but still visible, or the missing arm itself, but he deliberately decides to trust that it doesn’t matter to Steve. He’s here with Bucky now, smiling whenever their eyes meet, and it’s a declaration enough.

The water is cool and refreshing, not too cold at all, and they swim for a while as the sun climbs a bit more and the air starts to properly heat up. Even when wet Steve’s hair glistens golden under the light, and Bucky suddenly wants to find out whether his beard is soft or coarse, and there’s nothing stopping him now.

It takes just one swift kick in the water to get right into Steve’s space, and he looks momentarily surprised but the smile that appears right after is brighter than the sunrise, his hands warm on Bucky’s skin even under water. Bucky completely forgets to assess the quality of Steve’s beard when they kiss, because it doesn’t matter at all, what matters is that they can have this, they’ve fought through so many years, and now this perfect moment under the rising sun belongs to them.

Steve pulls Bucky against him, the water shallow enough he can stand on the lake bed to steady himself, and Bucky lets Steve carry his weight, relaxes in his arms, the contrast of body heat and cool water delicious on his skin. Steve kisses him as if they had all the time in the world, and Bucky falls into it, buries his fingers in Steve’s hair and sets to reminding himself of every detail he used to know, mapping out everything new. Steve’s mustache tickles him, his beard rubs against his stubble, and Bucky likes that there’s something new compared to when they were reunited during the war to fully anchor him into now.

What hasn’t changed is how his body reacts to Steve, and how Steve is right there with him; their cocks hardening between them with the arousal flushing through their veins. Bucky hooks his legs around Steve’s hips to find leverage, but there’s not much he can do other than hold on when Steve wraps a hand around both their cocks, working them fast and hard, clearly as desperate for release as Bucky suddenly is. They’re not really kissing anymore, only panting into each other’s mouths, overcome with sensation. Steve’s hand slides over his skin, hot, cold, hot sensations altering along with his touch, and Bucky comes, spills over Steve who needs a few more tugs before he comes too, wobbling on his legs but buoyed enough by the water that he doesn’t drop Bucky, just keeps holding on.

Bucky lays his head on Steve’s shoulder, taking the time to allow his rapid breathing calm down as Steve runs a soothing hand over his back and presses little kisses on his cheek and temple, wherever he reaches. It’s so comfortable Bucky doesn’t want to move, but the sun is rising and there are actually chores he needs to do, so he steps down, goes for one more kiss that is happily reciprocated, the lingering smile on his face reflected on Steve’s. He still has crinkles that appear around his eyes whenever he’s happy.

When they’ve dressed and are tending to the goats, Bucky milking them while Steve sweeps their pen, Bucky asks, “How long can you stay?”

“About a week,” Steve says, and Bucky is glad there’s no regret in Steve’s voice nor pain in his own chest.

It’s the life they have now; Bucky will stay here, he knows Steve will not ask him to leave, to come with him, and in return Bucky won’t ask Steve to stay. Right now what they need means they can’t be together all the time, but they can have these happy days here and there, and for now it’ll have to do.

 

* * *

 

“This is odd,” Steve says, the first time they talk to each other after he’s left Wakanda to rejoin his friends on their mission.

His image is crisp and clear on the holoscreen projected from Bucky’s bead, enough to show he’s less relaxed than he was when staying in Wakanda. The different mindset Steve has now is obvious, it’s required when spending life as a fugitive. The comment still doesn’t make sense.

“Steve, I know for a fact you’re completely used to video calls.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I mean, it’s just with you, strange talking to you when you’re not with me.”

Bucky gets it then, it’s the same hesitation he had about first contacting Steve, and in truth it is odd talking like this. Their interactions have always had a dimension of physicality that they now lack, and as a result the quality of talking to Steve is almost ephemeral, dream rather than reality. They’ve never had a chance to get used to communicating remotely, but it’s time now to do so.

Bucky settles more comfortably in the bed that feels distinctly larger when he’s alone. “You guys are safe, right?”

***

Steve’s eyes are tired, but he laughs freely at the antics of the goats, particularly the kid that keeps climbing on Bucky’s back and bouncing off again. It’s probably not that common for him to be so cheerful, because his three friends crowd around the phone, curious to see the reason for it. Steve only half-heartedly tries to shoo them away, but relents fast enough when Bucky greets them too. Bucky is happy to be reminded that Steve isn’t alone with this, even though it’s obvious the life as fugitives is taking a toll on all of them. Natasha has gone blond, Wanda has darker shadows under her eyes, and Wilson yawns every two minutes, but they also look like a unit, like a family.

***

Bucky squints at the image. “Are those stitches?”

Steve waves his hand dismissively, even as he leans in to show his brow to Bucky. “Just two, and there probably won’t be even a scar by the time I get back there.”

“That’s not a reason to allow yourself to get hurt.”

Steve opens his mouth, and Bucky knows it’s about to be a blithe response along the lines he’s heard dozens of times, except Steve pauses, and his expression softens. “I know. And I am being careful, as much as I can. I still need to do this, but I’m taking precautions.”

Bucky stares at him, surprised because it’s a change he didn’t know to expect, but when he thinks of it, it makes sense. Before the war Steve was always aware he didn’t have too much time in general, and he never hoarded it but tried to do with it what he could. In contrast during the war he probably felt a degree of invincibility because of his drastic physical change, even when he was just as scared as the rest of them. Now, after everything, he must be more conscious of loss, and hence more willing to make sure of safety.

Miracles will never cease.

 

* * *

 

Bucky is sitting shirtless on the lab table, Shuri busying herself with attaching the new arm on his left shoulder. It feels odd now to him to have the weight of it at the left side when he’s used to there being nothing, odd to be able to feel with metal fingers instead of having the phantom sensation of the ones he lost.

He’s sitting with his back toward the door, a small victory over his paranoia, and so he doesn’t immediately realize it’s Steve when he sees Shuri motion at someone to come inside. Only when she says, grinning broadly, “Good timing, Steve, a chance for you to do some ogling,” Bucky turns to see it indeed is him, visibly more tired compared to when he left, but at least there are no obvious injuries.

Steve comes up to the table, a slight flush on his cheeks due to Shuri’s words, but he smiles warmly to Bucky and touches lightly the back of his right hand for greeting. It’s discreet but obviously affectionate, and Bucky has to remind himself to keep his thoughts in line for as long as they’re among other people.

“Done,” says Shuri and steps back.

The feedback from the arm isn’t the same as it was from his old one, but Bucky adjusts to it surprisingly fast, so much so that he thinks the arm probably adjusts to him as well, somehow, because almost immediately it feels more natural to him. He picks up the things Shuri laid on the table for the purpose, squeezes the rubber ball, and soon enough he knows he’ll get along with the arm without trouble.

Steve has stayed by his side, eyes curiously following his process of getting acquainted with the new limb, and Bucky offers his left hand to Steve who takes it in his, warm and gentle, all of which Bucky can feel. There’s a moment of hesitation, fear that he might accidentally hurt Steve, except he grows more confident as his fingers curl the way he intends them to, and Steve doesn’t seem hesitant at all, following with his fingertips the gold lines running through the black of the vibranium.

Shuri steps closer again, explaining about the technical details, although Bucky notices she’s completely bullshitting it when she talks about the gold for some reason. He doesn’t call her out, he knows her well enough by now that he trusts it’s nothing bad.

In the end, he asks her to take the arm off again. “I’m truly grateful you’ve made it for me, but I don’t think I’m ready to take it on yet. You hang on to it, I’ll take it when there’s need for me.”

She looks at him then, more serious than her generally sunny demeanor is, and he is reminded again how young she is despite all her skills and intelligence. It’s probably more natural for her to think of the arm as just something to help him get along, make his daily life easier and hence a good thing. It’s more complicated for Bucky, in ways he hasn’t been able to explain yet to anyone really, but he can tell she’s starting to understand.

***

“You know she was just making it up about the gold? It doesn’t do anything vibranium couldn’t.” Bucky says later when they’re walking toward his farm.

“Yeah, I noticed. Maybe she just wanted you to have something pretty, and thought you’d balk at it because it’s technically unnecessary.”

It makes sense to Bucky when Steve says it, it sounds like her, but also like him; he is very reluctant to let the Wakandans give him anything but necessities since they’ve already done so much for him. She’s found a way around it regardless of him telling her not to trouble herself unduly, but he thinks now she doesn’t see it as trouble, it’s about making the arm the best she can, in every way, and that’s what she takes pride in. He’s been enough in her presence to know she always wants to push forward, to improve, and it’s not his place to tell her to limit herself.

He also has to admit, if only inside his head, that the arm does look nice.

He bumps at Steve with his left shoulder, and Steve takes the hint and wraps an arm around his waist. They don’t usually hold hands even now that they’re learning to show their physical affection to each other out in the open, since Bucky usually doesn’t like having his only hand occupied, but this works fine once they figure out the correct rhythm to walking close to each other. There is just a hint of the scent of gun oil on Steve, detectable only this close, and Bucky makes a mental note that they should take a swim as soon as possible. It’s not that he minds it, he just wants Steve to be able to fully let go of everything stressful while he’s in Wakanda, to help him be fortified when he goes back.

***

The chores go much faster with Steve around, even with the local children being a pain running around rather than helping like they do when it’s just Bucky. Everything is soon perfectly in order, Steve even fixed the corner of the fence that has been looking a bit shabby recently, and afterward they go into the lake. They float in the water, Bucky telling Steve what he’s learned about local edible plants and the monitoring of health that one of his beads does automatically. Steve tells him about the more relaxed aspects of traveling with Wanda, Natasha, and Sam, nothing of the missions they’ve taken, and it’s over an hour later when they rise from the water refreshed and hungry.

When they’ve eaten the sun has set and Bucky decides it’s cool enough they can make tea, and Steve pulls out a few small paper parcels from his bag. They’re filled with different kinds of fragrant tea, the type written neatly by hand in Indonesian on the side. Since Bucky started his life in Wakanda he’s gotten in the habit of drinking tea, it has become almost a calming ritual for him to make it, and he’s not at all surprised Steve has noticed it.

Bucky picks one of the new teas, measures it out and lets it steep, and soon enough they’re sitting outside, leaning on the still warm side of the hut, close as they can get to each other without one of them actually sitting on the other’s lap. Bucky takes a sip of his drink, and allows himself to be perfectly content.

 

* * *

 

“Are you okay?” Steve asks immediately after the call connects, looking fairly alarmed.

Bucky hastens to tell him it’s all good, realizing he probably should have expected the reaction considering he’s obviously in Shuri’s lab with a contraption made of vibranium mesh over his head. “It’s just a checkup, and I’m supposed to do something normal, so I called you since you said you’d be free about now.”

“I’m perfectly free,” Steve says, settling back on the bed that must belong in a very bland hotel room. “So what does that do?”

They spend the next hour talking about the methods that were used to remove the triggers, Bucky explaining and Shuri chiming in with corrections and additions every once in a while as she keeps an eye on the data streaming from the sensors around Bucky’s head, and does probably three other things at the same time. Steve listens and smiles at him, looking sleepy and content.

***

They’re both curled up in bed, for once close enough when it comes to time zones that their daily schedule is fairly similar. With the beads laid on a pillow next to him, Bucky can almost imagine Steve is right there, except for how he can’t reach out and touch. This is still better than nothing.

They don’t talk that much, just spend the time together, and Bucky falls asleep with the connection still open, listening to Steve’s breathing picked up by the microphone over the distance.

***

Bucky sighs with relief when the call connects; he knows Steve and his friends were up to something risky during the few days they were out of reach, and he can’t help but worry about those times. Steve is in some kind of a dark space and there’s a rhythmic noise in the background which Bucky recognizes after a moment. “Are you in a train carriage?”

“Yep,” Steve says, and moves the camera around to show it’s empty besides him, Wanda curled up and asleep with her head resting on his thigh, and their bags. “We had to split up for this to work, so Nat and Sam took the jet and we’re on the way to meet them. We’re safe.”

Steve asks how things are going at the farm, and Bucky tells him all the highlights, wanting to remind Steve of the safe parts of his life. He ends the call with, “Take care of yourself.” He never says goodbye to Steve, not wanting to end with anything so final.

 

* * *

 

Steve arrived the previous night with a shadow of a bruise at the corner of his eye, and considering his healing and the time between their mission and when Steve finally arrived, it must have been a forceful hit. Bucky doesn’t like to dwell on it, even though he well knows the reason Steve is still fast asleep next to him ten hours after they went to bed means he’s still paying dues for healing, and that there probably were other injuries as well. Sometimes it’s hard to not ask about the missions Steve and his team take, even when Bucky isn’t conflicted about it; he doesn’t want to know any details because he needs to have some distance to it all, and if he knew more than he does now he’d be dwelling on it all the time. It means he has to deal with the fact that sometimes it makes things more scary to not know.

After the morning chores the children ask Bucky to come and pick nuts from the forest with them. It’s a trip they’ve agreed on beforehand, and the scans from the drones monitoring the section of the forest show that the best time for the picking is now. Steve is still visibly tired, and while he’d come if asked Bucky suggests he could stay and keep an eye on the goats while they’re grazing. Steve can push himself, but if he does the exhaustion compounds, and Bucky wants to make sure Steve is well rested when he leaves again, and so even the relatively leisurely trip is out of the question. 

They come back a few hours later, just when the day is getting to its hottest phase and no one wants to work. They found plenty of nuts and Bucky takes his share after making sure the children can manage getting the bounty back to the village. At least they don’t have to carry everything, they have special baskets designed for carrying things that make use of the same hovering technology as the cars, but they are sometimes tricky to navigate in the forest. The rest of the way to the village is on a road though, so they’ll be fine.

Bucky spreads his share on a canvas in the sun to dry, gets himself a drink and goes to find Steve. He’s sitting in the pasture under a shadow of a tree, eyes half closed, hands folded in his lap. It takes Bucky a moment to figure out why there’s something odd about the scene, but he then realizes in his memories Steve always had a pencil and some kind of paper, maybe just a little notebook, out when there was time to sit idle. Even during the war he carried stubs of pencil and a little sketchbook with him, drawing whatever he fancied whenever he had a chance to sit down. The book was on display at the Smithsonian, turned to a page drawn during a mission where not only the Commandos had taken part, but also Peggy Carter and Howard Stark had been there. They’re all sitting by the fire, talking and laughing. Bucky is almost a shadow of a profile in it, sitting closest to Steve, and he wonders if Steve drew him like that to hide the feelings harbored inside that they couldn’t let out in the open.

Now that he thinks about it, he realizes he hasn’t seen Steve draw anything since they reconnected, and there are no sketchbooks or pencils in his bag, which means it’s no longer something Steve does regularly. He wonders if it’s been like this ever since Steve was found in the ice, or if it’s a more recent development, and what might be the reason for the change. He’s not going to ask right now, he needs to think about it a bit more, but there’s no question on whether it’s significant.

He goes to sit next to Steve, close but not touching. Steve smiles at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, but doesn’t reach out. He’s very good at discerning whether Bucky is comfortable with touch at any given time, and he’s correct again that right now it would be too much.

It’s sometimes difficult to estimate how different he is from the person he was before the war, the muddled and rediscovered memories aren’t always reliable, and it’s also difficult to look at himself as if from outside. He’s just himself, and it’s fairly often that he wonders if a particular trait has come with his experiences since the war or whether he already had it before.

He does know though, that he was very tactile before the war, probably more so than a lot of people generally are. He found comfort and relaxation in human contact in all its forms, with all the people he was close to, and he always tended to have an arm around Steve shoulders, hand in Becca’s hand, or elbows looped with one of the many girls he took out. He always liked hugging and just staying close to others. Touch for the most part wasn’t complicated for him back then, the only trouble he really had was that he wanted to touch Steve in ways he couldn’t in public, had to remind himself where the line between friendly and too affectionate lay.

These days they no longer have to hide their relationship, but otherwise it’s a lot trickier. In a funny way sex is actually one of the less complicated parts of it, there’s a mutual purpose to it that somehow steps over many of the hangups in Bucky’s brain. Not that he can stand it at all times, but it makes sense to him when he can and can’t, it doesn’t feel odd that sometimes it just doesn’t work. It’s the general touching with no purpose other than doing so that causes problems, because it’s so safe and harmless he can’t wrap his head around it, can’t explain why it’s sometimes impossible.

The yearning for touch is still there, he thinks he’s not really any different in that respect. He wants to reach out, wants to be close to Steve but there is a block that’s sometimes insurmountable. Sometimes the way it works is he can’t initiate but is content to have someone touching him, sometimes nothing works. Steve is good at recognizing both of these states, and acting accordingly. At first Bucky wondered at how Steve seemed to get it so naturally, but he’s come to realize that for Steve physical touch has never been particularly simple, with his aches and pains, the feelings of inadequacy before the war, and later with the body that had changed so much. He’s probably gone through a lot of similar things that now cross Bucky’s mind, and hence can react correctly, probably better than Bucky ever did. He does remember how Steve sometimes was prickly and would shake his arm off even when he didn’t know the reason.

“Did it annoy you,” Bucky asks, “back before the war, when I was so tactile?”

“No, of course not. Besides, not like there was anyone but you and mom that would hug me on a regular basis for example, and I would have been miserable without.”

“I just think I wasn’t very good at recognizing when it wasn’t welcome.”

Steve lies back on the grass and looks up to him. “I may have reacted differently depending on the day, but even when it was hard for me to bear it, I was still glad you did it. It always made it clear to me how much you cared, and that mattered a hell of a lot.”

“Yeah, I think I get it.”

Steve’s words have clarified things, and he looks soft and inviting lying on the grass, enough that it’s suddenly easy for Bucky to lie down and rest his head on Steve’s chest. Steve’s hand comes to his back, rubbing it in slow circles, and he relaxes and just enjoys the warmth of the day.

It’s not simple for him to get used to touch again, but with Steve it’s been getting better, and Bucky believes it’ll keep on improving. Even though they spend most of their time apart, the days spent together matter a lot, help both of them mend the pieces of themselves that need fixing. He takes courage from every little step; how he’s relaxing better while sleeping next to Steve, how he feels safer now together unlike at first when they both tended to wake up after accidentally poking at each other with elbows. It’s a learning curve to come together again, to get comfortable with existing around each other, but Bucky wants to find a new stable state for the two of them. He knows there is one, and they’ve already grasped the threads leading toward it. Those threads are little lines of happiness, still appearing fragile, but strengthening every day.

 

* * *

 

“Hi, Buck,” Steve says, laughing on his screen, some mirth from whatever he’s been doing still lingering over him.

At the background Bucky hears Sam saying, “You’re betraying the team to hang out with your boyfriend.”

Steve looks over his shoulder, his phone pointing at the ceiling for a moment. “I still spend more time with you these days, so you’ve no reason to complain.”

Before the door closes behind Steve, Sam yells, “Work time doesn’t count.”

In the quiet of what’s apparently his room, Steve flops down on the bed and smiles at Bucky. “If work doesn’t count then we should probably exclude farm chores too.”

“Seems fair,” Bucky says and smiles back at him. “Are you very busy?”

“Not really. I mean, it’s a lot like the war was for us, since we were on the road so much and not stuck in the trenches. Most of the time was marching and waiting, not exactly safe, but kind of boring. Same now, most of the time we have to wait.”

“And even during the war, we sometimes got to go to London to rest.”

“True. But I definitely like that there’s no need to rush to the bomb shelter at any hour of the night in Wakanda. I like a lot of other things too.”

“Yeah, I know you miss the goats.” Bucky grins at Steve, pushing away the worry in his heart. Steve has shadows under his eyes, meaning that even if they’re not pushing themselves, he’s still definitely not resting as well as he could. There’s nothing Bucky can do about it as it is, he just has to hope Steve remembers his limits, that his team knows to look for them.

***

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky smiles, happily surprised, because he hadn’t expected Steve to call. Steve is quiet though, just looking at him, and he prompts again, “What’s up?”

“Just missed your face.”

“Only my face?” Bucky asks, while a flash of delight passes through him.

“All of you really, but this is the best we can do now,” Steve says, more serious than Bucky expected, but he knows the sentiment is all the more sincere for it. “It’s pretty great though. Beats having to write letters and waiting for weeks for them to go through.”

“It is better,” Bucky says and leans back against the wall, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“No. I was just reading about Wakandan history, that’ll keep.” 

They fall into silence again, Steve apparently content to just look at him, to spend time together even over distance. After a moment Bucky remembers something he’s been meaning to ask. “That one time Sam referred to me as your boyfriend. Was it just something he said or do they know we’re not just friends?”

“They know. Sam figured out how I felt about you soon after D.C., Nat knew too even though we never talked about it, and apparently after that first trip to Wakanda I was basically broadcasting.”

“Of being sexually satisfied?” Bucky laughs at Steve’s sheepish expression at his words.

“That. Does it bother you? That they know.”

“Of course not, I just asked so I’ll know how to deal with it whenever we’ll meet.” He pauses, really thinking about it. “Honestly, I’m glad we can just tell people these days.”

“Me too.”

***

Bucky wakes up shaking, cold despite his pile of blankets, and he’s called Steve before really thinking it through. Only when he waits for it to connect he remembers Steve might not be able to answer, and he almost hangs up because in his current mood it would be hard to take the disappointment, but Steve appears on his screen, a worried frown on his brows. “Bucky, are you okay? Isn’t it something like three in the morning there?”

Bucky swallows and tries to smile at Steve. He knows it comes out shaky. “Probably.”

“A nightmare?” Steve asks.

“Yeah. Sorry if I interrupted something.”

“Nothing important.”

Steve proceeds to talk to him about all kinds of inconsequential things, and Bucky listens to his voice until he falls asleep again.

 

* * *

 

_ Steve’s here, come to the palace, _ is a message from Shuri waiting for Bucky when he returns from a swim.

He only expected Steve a few days later, he knows they’d been getting ready for action, and now the message and Steve being at the palace rather than coming over makes him go cold all over. Steve would have come to him if only he could, would have stayed to wrap things up wherever they had been if everything had gone as planned. Bucky knows this must mean he’s injured badly enough for it to not be a walk in the park, but he pushes the thought to the back of his head while he dresses. Falling apart isn’t going to help anyone, and now that Steve’s in Wakanda he can get the very best care.

He’s directed to the apartment in which they stayed when they first arrived after Siberia, and even now Bucky sleeps there if there’s need for him to stay in the city overnight. In the living room he finds Sam and Natasha talking with T’Challa, Shuri, and Nakia, no sign of Steve and Wanda anywhere. Sam’s knee is propped up and Natasha’s arm is in a sling, but they all appear calm which quells the panic that tries to rise in Bucky.

He must still be obviously agitated, because Shuri takes one look at him and says, “He’ll be okay, he’s just sleeping. It’ll help with the healing as you know.” She gestures toward the bedroom they shared.

Knowing Steve doesn’t even need a hospital helps Bucky relax a bit, but it doesn’t make all of his worries go away. “What about Wanda?” He doesn’t know her well at all, but Steve has definitely been taking a responsibility of her, almost as if she was his little sister. Bucky hopes this is not another loss Steve has to deal with.

“She’s fine,” Natasha says. “Better than the rest of us. She’s gone to stay with Vision.”

“Right, okay. I’ll just—,” Bucky gestures toward the bedroom, going without waiting for a reply. For all that he believes it when Shuri says Steve will be alright, he still needs to see Steve, needs to hear him breath and feel his heart beat before his subconsciousness is going to be appeased.

Steve is lying on his back, dressed in the white outfit Bucky remembers from his time spent at the hospital wing of the palace. There aren’t any immediately visible injuries, so at least he hasn’t hit his head, which is always a relief. When Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, Steve’s eyes open just a sliver, and he clearly recognizes Bucky from the way he seeks his hand. Steve tugs at him to come closer, so Bucky climbs over him to the empty side of the bed, curling up near but not crowding against Steve since he still doesn’t know the extent of the injuries. He holds Steve’s hand and settles to wait for him to wake up more fully, right now he’s obviously out of it due to some kind of painkillers.

Bucky actually falls asleep there, having slept badly during the last couple of days knowing Steve was potentially in danger, Steve’s steady breathing carrying him away, but he awakens when Steve shifts. His eyes are clear when he opens them this time, and he doesn’t seem to be in too much pain. He smiles at Bucky and squeezes his hand, and it finally quiets the dread in his subconsciousness.

“What happened?” Bucky asks. He usually doesn’t, but since Steve was severely injured he needs to know, he needs context for this.

“Modified Chitauri weapons, packed a punch.” Steve gestures at his torso, but doesn’t elaborate on what exactly happened. He’s clearly healing fine, so Bucky can get the details later. 

“Maybe you should have hung on to your shield,” he says, it just escapes and he’s immediately horrified by it. The whole thing with Stark is still raw for Steve, and more than anything Bucky wishes it could have gone differently.

Steve blinks at him, his face expressionless for a second, but then he actually cracks into a smile, he laughs and suddenly everything is okay, although he has to try to immediately quell it, because it obviously hurts.

“Your face was quite a sight just now,” Steve says when he’s steadied again.

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t very tactful.” Bucky makes a face when Steve grins harder.

“You never were that tactful in the first place, and I’m glad to see you’re comfortable enough to not watch everything you say so rigorously.”

It’s true, Bucky has reached a state where he’s comfortable enough in his skin again to not have to watch everything he does. “Still, I wish it had been something else that I tripped over.”

“It’s okay. I mean, it was a mess what happened, and not going to be easily fixed, but I believe we can get past it, eventually.”

They lapse into silence again, just resting until food is brought in and another checkup is ordered for Steve, after which he sleeps for most of the afternoon and evening. Later Bucky even manages to tear himself away, going into the living room to talk to the others. T’Challa apparently has one of his rare free days, as he’s still there, talking with Sam, while Nakia and Natasha seem to be cautiously exchanging spy tactics, probably trying to learn more than reveal, although Bucky thinks even that is a friendly sort of competition. Shuri is fiddling with something in a 3D virtual model, and Bucky goes to her. She starts to immediately explain what she’s doing, the way she tends to do when Bucky is at her lab, and the familiar routine helps him reach the normal sense of calm.

Mostly anyway; the dynamics are different now with Sam and Natasha there. Bucky isn’t really comfortable with either of them yet, and he isn’t sure at all what they think of Steve spending so much time with him. There is a bit of wariness in both of them when it comes to him, but they relax as the evening passes. Some hours later Sam is already trading barbs with him in a friendly manner, and late at night when Bucky is getting a glass of water Natasha catches him in the kitchen, smiling as she approaches, and Bucky manages to feel less like he’s being ambushed.

“Steve’s doing much better these days,” she says, “now that he spends time here every once in a while. He was getting wound up so tight I was worried he’d snap.”

That’s all, but Bucky hears her meaning loud and clear, that she approves of their relationship.

*** 

Steve is soon up on his feet again, at first a bit tentative but getting better and better every hour. They’ve stayed at the palace for a few days, Bucky regularly video chatting to his neighbors about the daily chores at his farm. Many of them have pitched in, happily even, because it’s how things work in the community, everyone helps those who need it. Bucky too has often taken part in communal jobs as well as substituting for others. It’s not rare, for example, that his little goat herd varies in size depending on whether people need a caretaker.

“We should get back to the farm,” Steve says on the fourth day after Bucky has shown him a video of the antics of the goats sent to him by one of the children at the village.

“Are you sure? You’re still recovering, and besides, your friends are here.” There’s no room at Bucky’s place for additional people, so it makes sense for them all to stay at the palace.

Steve smiles at him and leans into his side. “I’m fine, and I see them all the time. Besides, I like it there, it’s peaceful.”

Bucky gives in, partly because he feels a bit like he’s slacking, but mostly because he really believes Steve will mentally recover there. His only condition is that Steve’s doctor agrees to the move, which she does, as long as they catch a ride up to the farm and Steve takes it easy on the chores. They leave the next morning, Natasha and Sam waving them off, the two of them apparently happy to stay at the palace, relaxing and recovering in safety.

At the farm there’s some grain waiting to be sorted, which is light work but goes much faster with two hands, perfect for Steve while Bucky takes care of everything else that needs to be done. They spend most of the remaining day resting together in the shade, Bucky’s head pillowed on Steve’s thigh. Steve combs through his hair with his fingers, massages his scalp, and Bucky very nearly falls asleep there just for the comfort of it.

It’s good to spend time with just Steve, good to know he’s safe again, recovering. Bucky knows he’ll have to work harder to not be afraid when Steve leaves the next time, with this reminder of the risk fresh in mind, but there’s nothing for it. Nothing has changed as far as it comes to their situation; Steve will still need to go, and Bucky will need to deal with it. At least they’re going to get a few weeks together before it, Steve’s team is laying low to throw anyone that might be looking for them off, taking a chance to fully recover. It’s wonderful, but Bucky still wishes for more time.

He wonders now if it was the right choice to stay away from Steve for so long, since now that they’re finally getting to spend time together it’s so good that he’s greedy with it. Then again even a year after D.C. when he’d recovered a significant part of his memories he wasn’t stable like this, and he can’t know what kind of difficulties they might have had. There’s no use anyway to worry about it, this is their reality now, and it’s not perfect but it’s good, and Bucky’s going to hold on to it for as long as he can. He knows it won’t last forever, but it’s all the bigger reason to not yearn for something impossible. It’s best to focus on the reality.

 

* * *

 

They’ve been chatting for a while when Bucky hears the door and Steve looks away from the camera, greeting Natasha and Sam, who crowds in rather than going about his own business like she does.

“Barnes, you must have dirt on Steve, so share.”

It’s a sudden request, and from the way Steve immediately cracks up Bucky guesses there’s a story behind it. “Why do you suddenly want to know?”

Steve keeps laughing hard enough that Sam tries to elbow him as he attempts to gain enough control to speak. “Nat has a video of him trying the wings for the first time while with the Air Force, it’s hilarious. That reminds me, I should send it to you.” Steve’s eyes twinkle with mirth.

Bucky’s gets a notification that there’s a message from Natasha, with a video included. “No need, Natasha sent it to me already.”

Sam sends a glare at her looking deeply betrayed before focusing on him again. “So, spill on Steve.”

Not that Bucky is above embarrassing Steve, but he likes riling up Sam even more, so he assumes a completely blank expression. “I actually don’t remember that much from before, with all the electroshocks and stuff.”

Sam starts to look chagrined by it, but he notices Steve shaking with laughter and completely giving Bucky away, and so he just glares at Bucky before disappearing, leaving the two of them to talk.

***

“I really wish I could come there,” Steve says, fatigue obvious in every line of his body.

“You could,” Bucky says, keeping his tone neutral, a statement rather than a request, despite the fact he does wish Steve would just come, would just rest, with every fiber of his being.

Steve sighs, long and almost defeated, shaking his head. “No, I can’t. We found something we need to take care of. I just hate the things people show they’re capable of sometimes.”

***

“Can you just talk to me?” Steve is lying on his bed, face half buried in the pillow. There’s a streak of dirt at his hairline, and he’s still wearing the shirt that goes under his protective suit. “I don’t care about what, I just need to hear your voice.”

Bucky would smile if he wasn’t so worried over Steve, he must be exhausted to have collapsed in bed without a shower after a mission. It could be either physical or mental exhaustion, there’s no way for Bucky to know without asking, and he’s not going to, that won’t help Steve at all. He’s about to start on a story of one of Shuri’s rare failures with her experiments, consequences of which were completely hilarious, when there’s a knock on Steve’s door.

Wanda’s voice comes from beyond the view on screen. “Can I come in? I don’t want to be alone, and I’m definitely not going to crash in on whatever Nat and Sam are doing.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Steve says, gesturing for her to come in but doesn’t even lift his head. “Bucky’s going to tell us a story.”

Wanda is wearing an oversized hoodie but otherwise is still straight from whatever they’ve been through. Her smile is wan when she greets Bucky and curls up next to Steve, resting her head on his back. Bucky is glad Steve has a team with him, that they have each other to draw comfort from, especially since it’s obvious whatever happened must have been harrowing enough to shake them all up. Again he can’t help but think of Wanda as Steve’s adopted sister, there’s the kind of ease between the two of them, and it makes his heart warm up even more toward her.

He tells the story, then another one, and even manages to make them laugh in the end.

 

* * *

 

Steve has been gone for almost three months, the longest period since they first reconnected after Bucky had been woken up from stasis, and Bucky can’t wait for him to get back. There’s no specific estimate for the hour, only the date of his arrival, and Bucky tries to not get anxious about it right from the morning, especially since Steve usually has turned up sometime in the afternoon.

He’s finished his regular morning chores and is recalibrating the trackers his goats wear to monitor their health when a hover car crests over the hill. The gold of Steve’s hair is unmistakable on the passenger seat, and the car is Shuri’s. She hadn’t mentioned wanting to come over when they last spoke, and she definitely has more important things to do than drive Steve around, especially when he’s completely content to walk.

When they step out it’s obvious they’re both feeling down. Steve is no surprise, Bucky has been able to track his state of mind during their regular calls, but he talked with Shuri just the day before, and she seemed fine. He goes to meet them, and gets a lackluster fist bump from her, Steve trailing after, shrugging in sympathy.

“I came to pet your goats,” Shuri says, her tone such that she expects Bucky to argue.

“There are days when that’s definitely the the most valid course of action,” he says, and gets the faintest smile from her before she heads to the pasture.

Steve stops only right in Bucky’s space, leaning into him almost more than hugging. Bucky runs a hand through his hair, and Steve breathes slowly in and out, as if grounding himself. Bucky too feels like he’s breathing easier again, not for himself, because he’s doing fine, but for Steve, who’s still incapable of stopping, even though it’s all taking a toll in him, and most likely will sooner or later crash on his head. Bucky just wishes the consequences of it happening won’t be too dear.

Steve pulls away, and Bucky takes his bag, gently pushing him toward the pasture where Shuri is sitting under a tree surrounded by the herd. “I’ll make us some tea.”

“I brought you more, they’re on top of the bag.” 

It’s practically a tradition now, Steve bringing him things. Bucky isn’t too keen on having too much stuff, so it’s usually something to eat or drink, candy or tea for example, and he is endeared every time to know that Steve was thinking of him while away. Not that he needs any additional proof, they talk so often that he’d be stupid if he didn’t know, but he loves the gestures nonetheless. This time there is a parcel of small cakes as well, and Bucky puts it with the perfectly brewed tea, cups, and some fruit in a basket and takes it all outside.

The three of them spend a lazy day together, and as it turns toward afternoon, both Shuri and Steve already seem more relaxed. It’s easy to sometimes forget due to her cheerfulness that Shuri has experienced losses and frightful times over the last couple of years. Her general state of mind probably helps her push through most of the time, but it’s not surprising that some days are just tough, and Bucky is happy to provide help. It doesn’t feel like it’s that much, just letting her sit around his farm and cooking for her, especially compared to how much she’s done for him, but it’s not a competition, and however small amount, he’s still helping both her and Steve. 

It’s something that really only now dawns to him, that he too does something for them. It’s a revelation that unravels some hitherto almost unperceived constriction inside him, only felt now that it’s gone.

Shuri takes her leave when the sun is starting to set, and Steve and Bucky do the afternoon chores before going for a long swim in the lake as is their habit. Bucky’s comfortable in the water even with just one arm, but whenever they’re together he tends to stick close, allowing Steve to halfway support him, focusing on the contact. They come out only when Steve is yawning more than not.

In the bed that night Steve pulls Bucky on top of him, wrapping arms tightly around him and the sigh he lets out sounds completely content. Bucky trails fingers up his arm until his hand is slipped inside Steve’s short sleeve, and tangles their legs together. They’re as close as they can get and still wear clothes, and it feels more right than anything, just being with Steve. One day Bucky can maybe say it, put into words what their connection means to him, but he’s not there yet, and maybe Steve isn’t either. But it’s okay, they still know, even when they haven’t talked about it. They’ve never needed to talk of their feelings for each other to know them.

 

* * *

 

“I thought you didn’t have a mission today,” Bucky says, alarmed, when the call connects. For all that he doesn’t know the specifics of what Steve does, he has asked to know whenever they’re in action if possible, because otherwise he’s just going to worry all the time. 

“We didn’t.” Steve looks confused for a second, then it dawns to him. “Oh, you mean this.” He taps at his cheekbone where a bruise is still blue and purple. “No, we have enough safe space here, so we took the opportunity to get some training in. Wanda’s getting more precise.”

Steve is so proud of her that Bucky doesn’t have a heart to tell him to be more careful. It would be hypocritical anyway, god knows he came home with bruises all the time from his boxing practice back in time. Now that he looks more closely, the bruise on Steve probably came from a fairly gentle hit, just connected the right way to leave a mark, and he decides he doesn’t need to worry about their training on top of the missions.

***

Bucky’s stretched out on the grass, idly tracking the clouds floating above. On the other side of the ocean Steve is reading to him from a book he sold by saying it was about witches and vampires. Turns out it’s also about the courage to make difficult choices and how treating people like things is a root of a lot of evil. Bucky likes it for all those reasons.

***

Steve is getting ready to go out, meticulously dressing himself in his uniform, making sure that everything is in order and that every closure is tight. He’s put the phone down so that he’s in the view most of the time, and while Bucky is nervous, the ritual calms him too, seeing how Steve pulls on his protective armor. It’s not a guarantee he’s not going to get hurt, but it’s better than going without, since Steve will have to go.

“Take care of yourself,” Bucky says when Steve is ready.

Steve nods, and Bucky remains seated long after he’s disconnected.

 

* * *

 

Bucky is lying awake even though it’s more than two hours until the time he usually gets up. He is warm and comfortable, just as he always is with Steve next to him, but the knowledge it’s the last night for now hangs on him. Steve will leave in the afternoon, and it’ll inevitably mean his bed is going to feel much too big again. Steve is deep in slumber, turned toward him with a hand resting on his side, and Bucky keeps staring at him, drinking in every moment that they still have together.

He is happy. It’s a simple phrase, but the sentiment it contains is anything but for him. It’s taken a long time but he’s made it to a point where he can think of it and not question himself, can believe it without doubt. It has to do with his life in Wakanda, that he’s safe both in body and mind, and with Steve being with him. He has all the pieces he needs.

At the same time he can’t help but be conscious of how their happiness is fleeting still, that the moments are solid but outside of them there’s still the uncertainty. Never of their love for each other, but of everything else that could happen. He still yearns for a sense of permanence when it comes to many things, not just Steve’s presence, even though it’s a major factor. 

There’s always a sense of fear when Steve is away, the knowledge that he might not make it back. Steve leaves because he has to, he’s not ready to stand down yet, couldn’t live with himself if he forced it. Bucky understand it and never asks him to stay, even though it’s obvious Steve sometimes wishes he would. He won’t, because that way would only lead to a thread of resentment between them. He knows it has to be Steve’s choice. Steve isn’t ready yet to slow down and pick up the more neglected pieces again, but there’s certainty in Bucky that it will happen someday sooner rather than later. He’ll wait for it, wait for the day that Steve sits idly and reaches for paper and pencil again.

Even though he’s more settled than Steve currently is, it doesn’t mean he’s completely content. He’s fully aware that he’s hiding right now, he’s safe and while it’s his choice to stay, part of it is due to fear and he resents it. He wonders sometimes if the fear would go away if there was some kind of a break to his peaceful existence, if that would finally shake everything into place, make him truly free to make the choice. He doesn’t know, and he won’t until something happens that’ll spur him forward again.

He actually falls asleep at some point, because he wakes up lying half on top of Steve who’s flat on his back, petting his hair. Steve probably knows he’s awake, but Bucky doesn’t move, just lies with his ear pressed against Steve’s chest, listening to the steady heartbeat, enjoying the dexterous fingers sorting out the tangles in his hair. He’s hard, his cock pressed against Steve’s hip snuggly enough that it wouldn’t take much movement from him to get friction, and when he thinks about it he realizes Steve too is straining in his shorts, pressing against his thigh, even though he too seems content for now to just lie there.

Bucky likes these moments in the morning, being aroused enough that it’s just this side of in control, where the smallest stimulation would demand more. They don’t move, and for several minutes Bucky basks in the anticipation and arousal, strangely content with it, not because he’s satisfied but because he knows he will be, whenever they choose to act.

In the end Bucky is the one to give in. He shifts and slides a hand into Steve’s shorts, grasping a hold of his cock, his own getting pressed even tighter against Steve’s hip. It makes him sigh out of pleasure, or maybe it’s the way Steve’s fingers momentarily tighten in his hair.

“Come here,” Steve says, and pulls him up into a kiss, turning so that they’re on their side facing each other.

Bucky presses into Steve, helped with a firm arm around him, pulling him close enough that he can’t really move his hand, just leaves it there between them, pressing over Steve’s cock as they exchange kisses, slow and tender, still content as he’s been all morning. Steve lets out pleased sounds, almost humming, and Bucky takes it all in, he wants to both hear them and tries to steal them off his lips.

It gets too hot in moments, and they push the blankets and sheets off, shedding their T-shirts and shorts as well, and press into each other again, skin to skin. Bucky is so sensitive by now it’s not going to take a lot for him to reach climax, and he wraps his arm around Steve and ruts against him, Steve’s hand firm on his hip as a guide. Steve’s breaths come out ragged, and Bucky forces himself to open his eyes even though bliss tries to force them closed, he wants to see, wants to look at Steve at the moment of his release.

Their noses almost touch and so he has to focus on each detail one after another, he can’t get a picture of Steve’s whole face. There’s the way his lips, red from kissing, are parted, his eyelids fluttering, the little frown between his brows, the sheen of perspiration on his temples. All of it comes together to make Steve whole as he lets out a dragged exhale and spills between them. It pulls Bucky along, and his eyes fall closed as he comes, the sensation flooding over him.

They stay in bed only for a while afterward, it gets uncomfortable fast, and so they clean up, talking and laughing as they pull their work clothes on and have a quick breakfast. They go swimming after the morning chores and it’s only then that Bucky again consciously remembers Steve will leave again soon. He’s of course been aware of it all the time, but since he woke up it’s been at the back of his head, only coming back now that the hour comes nearer. He’s glad he managed to not focus on it, that they both went through the morning just like any other, because it’s easier to believe everything will be fine going forward as well.

After lunch Steve is ready to go, his bag packed and everything checked. They stand in front of the hut, holding hands, just looking at each other. Soon they will be parted, but they’re taking these moments and making use of every second they can spend together.

“Where will you go?”

“I’ll pick up Nat and Sam from Spain, and Wanda from Scotland. We’ve got a lead on Chitauri weapons in Mexico, so we’ll head that way.”

“Try and not get hit this time.” Bucky wants to say so much more, wants to say he loves Steve, but the words won’t come out yet, they’ll have to wait.

“I’ll do my best.” Steve smiles, he probably heard what Bucky meant anyway.

They hug each other for the final time, and part the usual way, Bucky telling Steve to take care of himself as he always does. No goodbyes this time either. He stays on his spot and watches Steve walking away, and when he’s cresting the hill Steve turns back and waves before disappearing from the view.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> I didn’t make them a series, because the stories aren’t reliant on each other, but this is a companion to my post-Infinity War fic [Coming Back from the End of the World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14614143).
> 
> I’m also on [tumblr](http://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/).


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